


Fighting Words

by thatfangirl



Category: Birds of Prey (Comic)
Genre: Gen, Subtext, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-15
Updated: 2010-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatfangirl/pseuds/thatfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barbara teaches Dinah a lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anathomical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathomical/gifts).



> Birds of Prey belongs to DC Comics. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.
> 
> Set between Birds of Prey Vol. 1 #59 and #60, which are collected in the Of Like Minds TPB.

Dinah waggled the tip of her baton. "Bring it."

Rather than roll her eyes, Barbara narrowed them. With economical grace, she trapped Dinah's baton between her own and twisted it from Dinah's grip. It sailed through the air, striking the wall before clattering to the training room floor.

"Holy moly!"

"I don't understand why we're doing this," Barbara commented as Dinah wheeled over to retrieve her weapon. After Dr. Mid-Nite had released Dinah from the JSA infirmary, it had been natural for her to come to the Clocktower. Savant's attack meant that she would be using a wheelchair for several weeks, and while Dinah's apartment wasn't designed for that, Barbara's penthouse suite was.

"Because," Dinah explained, waggling her eyebrows, "I want to learn your _moves_."

"My moves," Barbara repeated. "For the next time you're in a wheelchair, fighting someone else in a wheelchair, both of you armed with _doble baston_."

"You never know," Dinah said primly as she wheeled back to Barbara. "Now, show me how you did that thing, that thing, that thi-i-ing..."

Only Dinah would still be singing after suffering fractures in three limbs. Struggling to hide a smile, Barbara extended one of her batons. "Put one baton on top and one on the bottom." Dinah did so. "Now twist." Nothing happened.

"I'm twisting!" Dinah insisted.

"You need more leverage. Move them apart—" Barbara felt her grip break, and the baton fell beside her chair. It would have been simple for her to retrieve it, but it was a start. "Good."

Dinah, clearly pleased with herself, returned the baton to Barbara. "Say that had been your arm—"

"You could have broken it."

Dinah spun her batons. "Drum majors of death! Ooh, that would be a good name for a metal band." She crossed her batons above her head, then commenced a raucous air drum solo.

"Eskrima—"

"—is a venerable art with a long and proud history that I need to respect."

"What you _need_ is a real sparring partner." Barbara wished that she could ask Dick, but he would misinterpret the invitation and she would have to hurt him again.

"You're my real sparring partner," Dinah insisted, "drum majorette of destruction."

"Well, I certainly want to hit you."

"Bring—holy moly!" Dinah's baton hit the wall, then the floor. "No fair, show me how to block that."

Once Dinah had retrieved her baton, Barbara ordered, "Hold it out again."

"Is this a trick?" Dinah asked suspiciously, but complied.

Barbara placed her batons where they would generate maximum torque. "If you resist me, I'm going to break your grip. But if you turn with me—" Barbara's batons slid harmlessly away, leaving her off balance. "Now, before I can return to my guard—" Dinah tapped her on the shoulder. "Or attack the head, if you're in trouble."

Dinah regarded her batons appraisingly. "I see why you like these things. But what if I don't have them, and I'm fighting someone a little...taller."

"If your attacker is smart enough to keep out of range of your hands, you need to level the playing field. Trap their foot or ram them while their leg is chambered."

"Ram them?" Dinah set the batons on her lap and wheeled toward Barbara, knocking their knees together. "And if I take a kick to the teeth while my guard is down?"

"Don't worry, all my operatives have dental insurance. And I'll still love you even if you have to take your meals through a straw."

Dinah considered this, then decided, "I like the one where I trap their foot. So, once I have them on the ground, what do I do, fall on them?"

Barbara shrugged. "Something like that. Most people don't know how to fight on the ground, so you'll have the advantage." She wheeled to the supply closet. "Help me with the mat?"

After Dinah had unfolded the mat, Barbara transferred from her chair. She pulled herself to the center of the mat and lay on her left side. The plastic weave covering the mat smelled like disinfectant and, inexplicably, bat guano. She ground her teeth. "Come here."

Dinah dismounted her wheelchair less gracefully, then crawled to Barbara. "Who's _uke_ -ing?"

"You've just trapped my leg and pushed me off my feet. Get behind my right shoulder." Awkwardly, Dinah did. "Now, put your right knee on my ribs." In addition to the careful pressure of Dinah's knee, Barbara could feel the rough surface of her cast. "Grab my right wrist." There were no mirrors in Barbara's training room, but she didn't have to see Dinah to know that she had instinctively grabbed with her dominant hand. "Hold it up." Barbara felt the cotton of Dinah's t-shirt against her fingers. "Use your left forearm to hold my elbow against you." There was the synthetic material of her shorts. "Don't let me move my arm. Now, put your other leg over my neck so I can't sit up." The other cast scratched against Barbara's throat. "Make sure my thumb is pointing up—that directs the force to the other side of my arm. Now, lean back—ah," Barbara gasped as her arm fully extended. "No, don't let go—I haven't tapped out. _Don't_ lift your hips, but if you lifted your hips, you'd dislocate my elbow." She slapped the mat with her free hand and Dinah immediately released her.

Barbara withdrew the hand stretched toward Dinah's face and gingerly shifted free from Dinah's legs. "Think you can do that without me guiding you?"

"In my sleep," Dinah blustered, but she took Barbara's wrist carefully.

Barbara remained silent while Dinah repeated the armlock. "You know," she commented after they had disentangled, "this isn't completely unpleasant. Maybe we should train together more often. After all, I have a personal stake in your field readiness."

"You sure know how make a girl feel wanted."

"Should I take that as a yes?"

"Yes. But, Babs, sometimes, when people want to see their friends more often, they don't couch it in terms of 'field readiness.'"

"How could I possibly want to see you more often? You're _living_ with me," Barbara pointed out. "And I am evaluating your field readiness."

"'Evaluating'? As in, you're not sure?"

Barbara wasn't ready to have this conversation. "As in, let's do that armlock again."

Dinah grumbled something that sounded like, "Worse than Batman," but complied.

After tapping out again, Barbara said, "What if I couched it in terms of, 'Let's order from Fieri's and watch old movies'?"

"Then, I guess I'd say"—Barbara didn't have to see Dinah to know that a gleeful smile had just split her face—"Bring it."


End file.
